All We Ever Wanted Was Everything
by Mancuso
Summary: Dean mourns for the childhood his brother never had, but Sam is making the best of what they do have when they come across an unlikely stranger who seems to know their father. Teen!Chesters. Dean/Sam. Wincest. Mean!John. OMC.
1. Window Watching

AN: This will be a chapter fic. As of now, I have no idea where I'm going with it. That's always fun, lol. I don't own Dean, Sam, John, or anything affiliated. Title of the story and even the subject of the first chapter itself comes from Bauhaus' "All We Ever Wanted Was Everything."

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Dean watched Sam from the motel room window. Fourteen years old and he still never passed up the opportunity to play on a swing set when he saw one. It broke Dean's heart. Of course he still loved to swing even as a teenager. Swings were hardly ever at his disposal as a young boy. His first elementary school hadn't even had a playground, and his second only had one set of swings which were always occupied by the bigger and meaner kids. By that point, Dean was in middle school and could do nothing about it.

He sighed, eyes still on his long and lanky brother as he ran the blade of his father's carving knife smoothly over the Arkansas Whetstone that had been his gift two weeks ago on his birthday. He'd asked for it because it was a necessity, not because he wanted it. His bowie was dull enough to do nothing more than cut butter and his throwing knives were getting there. What he'd secretly wanted was a football or a basketball. Something that he could take into the parking lot and toss around with Sammy. The both of them had great potential when it came to athletics. The basketball coach had approached Sam countless times during the lunch hour at school practically begging him to try out. Sam may have wanted to, Dean didn't know, but he always turned the coach down. Even if he made it, he'd be cut from the team for never coming to practice. The same with Dean who wanted very much to try out for the football team that year. He would never have had the time.

Dean closed the whetstone and left his seat near the window to go slide the knife back into it's compartment on the side of John's belt which was hanging over the headboard of his bed, neat as a pin with that one exception. John had yet to sleep in it in the two nights they'd been staying there. The first night he spent sitting up sentinel in the stuffed chair by the window. That morning, Dean found him asleep with his chin against his chest and the rifle still laying flat across his lap. He covered him with his own jacket and let him sleep until the afternoon. When John woke, Dean took his well-deserved scolding. He had been wrong to let his father rest. It left them open to the cryptid. The second night, John only returned to the room for a few moments to re-stock ammo. He hadn't been back since.

The sound of Sammy flinging the door open and entering the room shocked Dean out of his daze and he turned to look at his younger brother who was in what would probably be his most awkward stage of development. He was only fourteen, and already he loomed over his classmates and his older brother. His voice had deepened a lot since last October. The tight and wiry muscles of young boyhood were beginning to fill out and Sam could no longer be considered just skinny. His hair had reached the tips of his ears a month and a half ago and now, when Sam wore a collared shirt, his hair brushed over that as well. But his eyes were still the large hazel almond-shaped puddles of depth they'd always been. Sam could never hide his true feelings or intentions if it hadn't been for his rebellious teenage need to grow out his bangs halfway over them. Dean could never deny that his baby brother was beautiful.

"I see you discovered the swing set." He remarked fondly, physically bracing himself from running over to his brother and defiling him in every conceivable way.

"Yeah." Sam smiled, closing the door quietly behind him and making his way over to Dean. "You were sharpening Dad's knives for him?"

"Yeah." Dean looked down to the whetstone in his hand and set it on the bedside table to the side of John's bed. "Thought I'd make sure they were sharp, just in case."

"Why don't you come swing with me?" Sam took Dean's hand by his fingers and swung his arm idly back and forth between them. "I saw you through the window. You looked bored."

"If I had the time..."

"You have plenty of time."

"True." Dean wouldn't argue. "Alright Sammy." He sighed, looking to the whetstone again and wondering if Dad would come home tonight. Or ever. He didn't want that, but it would mean he'd never have to sharpen another knife for the rest of his life if he didn't want to.

Sam smiled at him, tugging on the tips of his fingers, walking to the door and pulling Dean with him. Sam was mumbling something about a butterfly that landed on his knee while he was on the swing, but Dean was too far gone thinking about missing fathers and wasted childhoods to really listen. It was unfortunate, because Dean would have loved to hear about Sam and his insect friend. It would have reminded him that Sam hadn't missed out on all that youth had to offer. For him, it had only been delayed.

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AN: Reviews are welcome since I'm not sure what the next chapter will bring, myself. If people like this, I'll likely keep the somber melancholia of the tone. If not, I might lighten it up a bit. Or I might not listen to what anybody says and I might do something crazy. Who knows. Also, I love John and I'm not being hard on him because I'm one of those fans that's all "John Winchester's a dick and a bad father!" because I don't feel that way at all. It just works well with my story to characterize him that way, lol.


	2. Keeping Things

AN: I know I know! I was deathly ill all last week, and then I was busy catching up on work I couldn't do while I was sick this past week. So...those are my excuses and they are totally legit, I promise. I'm so out of it, man. I hope this doesn't read to you as forced as it feels to me. I just have to get back into the swing of things. Anywho...I don't own anything. Onward.

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There was no money in the motel room. John either forgot to leave them anything, or didn't have anything to leave them. Not a credit card in the place. Not a fistful of cash. Nothing.

"Man, Dean, what're we supposed to eat on?"

"I don't know." Dean said from the window. It had become his favorite thinking spot over the past couple of days. "What I'd really like to know is who the fuck he thinks he is leaving us here for two whole days by ourselves."

"Dean..." Sam was wide-eyed. He'd never heard his brother speak against their father that way. Dean had just...never had it in him.

"No. I have every right. I'm not Mom, Sam. So why does he treat me like I am."

"What, you're pissed off because you have to take care of me? I know you and Dad haven't realized this yet, but I'm fourteen, Dean. I can take care of myself. I'm not Sammy with the runny nose and the scab on his knee anymore."

"You think I don't know that?" Christ...Dean knew it better than anyone. "I'm just tired is all, Sam."

"I know that." Sam sighed. It really wasn't fair how Dean carried so much responsibility. "But while Dad's not here, you could rest. Let me be the one to take care of _you._ You hardly slept last night. You think I didn't notice? You kept tossing and turning, I couldn't sleep either."

"You could've taken Dad's bed..."

"I rest better next to you, convulsing or not." The younger Winchester smiled, trying to pull one out of his brother. He was successful. As always.

"Yeah, well. Looks like I'm going to have to go out tonight and scrounge up some cash."

Sam bit his lip. He hated when Dean went to bars because two out of three times he ended up in a fight and he and John never let Sam go with him for back-up.

"Well, since Dad isn't here, can I come with you?"

"No, Sammy. You're too young."

"I have a fake ID, Dean. And I'm tall enough t pass for 21. And your excuses are bullshit anyway because just two weeks ago Dad took us to a bar for dinner and he bought me a beer and nobody said anything."

"Yeah, well, that was different. That was dinner. This is hustling pool and it's dangerous."

"More dangerous than a bunyip or a phantom cat?"

Dean sighed and took a seat on the pin-neat bed that was their fathers, yet untouched. "Sam...this is people we're talking about, not predictable monsters. Sometimes even I'm not prepared for what they come at me with. You can't ward them off with salt or iron."

Sam crossed his arms and scowled down at his older brother.

"Like the time you came home bleeding and crying...._you_ were _crying_....and you couldn't tell me or Dad what happened?" Occasionally Sam would bring this up much to the discomfort of his older brother. It was the only grudge he'd ever bore him. That Dean had kept something secret from him.

"Sam...can we not go there today? Please?" It was obvious how painful the topic was for Dean, and his hand flew to rub at his forehead as much as to hide his eyes in shame.

"It's been a year, Dean. Why can't you tell me? You tell me everything."

"It's complicated, Sam." When Dean's hand fell to his lap, his eyes followed, and they refused to meet with Sam's again.

"Dean..." Same knelt down in front of him, a habit he practiced every time his brother looked like he needed consoling or coaxing. He put his hand on top of his brothers, held it, and tilted his head, trying to pull Dean's gaze back to his. "You can tell me anything, don't you know that. If you did something....questionable....or something that you think Dad would disapprove of, I'm sure you would've had a good reason. I'd understand."

But Dean hadn't done anything, really. He'd pulled all the tricks his dad had taught him. Everything in the grifter's handbook. He had just happened to lose out. When it came time to pay his debt, he had nothing to pay it with.

"Sam. I don't keep secrets from you to hurt you or deceive you. I do it to protect you. There are some things....you're just better off not knowing."

"I'm not exactly innocent as is..."

"You may think that, but you don't know everything, Sam."

"No, but I know a hell of a lot." The younger Winchester sighed. "Look, Dean....let me come with you tonight. If anything happens, we'll just get out. I mean...what bad things could happen with a Winchester man backing up another Winchester man?" He smiled. "I'll even carry heat if you want me to."

"You probably should, Sammy."

"You mean you're saying yes? I can go?" Sam's eyes lit up. It shouldn't have surprised him that he'd won Dean over.

"I guess so. But no drinking. And no women. Just....keep an eye on me."

Before Dean saw it coming, Sam was flying at him, long arms wrapped around him, and knocking him backwards. "You've gotta stop doing this, Sammy. Christ. You're getting too big."

"Sorry. Love you, Dean."

Dean smiled and ran a hand through his brother's too-long too-shaggy hair. "Love you, too." He hesitated for a moment before allowing himself to kiss the top of Sam's head. "More than you know."


	3. Cue the Queers

AN: I know...forever to update, but I have good reasons (excuses.) Anyhow...let's see how you like this chapter. It's...uh...not got the same feel as the last two.

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Dean was trying hard to concentrate on the game, but he couldn't go a minute without glancing back at Sam just to make sure he was okay. It was the same for Sam. He sipped his beer and occasionally looked around the bar, not suspiciously or anxiously. Winchesters were cautious, not paranoid. But nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be going on. Sam was certain that a couple in the booth across the floor from him was having sex, but that didn't interest him in the least once he'd gotten over the shocking new revelation that people probably had sex in public all the time and from now on, he'd never quite trust any booth in any restaurant or bar for the rest of his life. He wondered if Dean knew these things. He frequented bars in just about every town they blew into, so he must've. For all Sam knew, he probably hooked up in booths and bathrooms all the time. When Sam told Dean that he'd lost his virginity, he'd given him six condoms, but said nothing. That had made Sam uneasy. He'd been expecting a pat on the back, a ruffle of the hair, or even a scolding. But Dean had said nothing as though he were disappointed, but not disappointed enough to yell. And how dare he be. He was the one with the duffel full of prophylactics just waiting to be used or, in this case, handed out. Sam still had those condoms. All six. He never really considered using them. Sex, as far as he was concerned, hadn't been all it was cracked up to be. It was a little embarrassing, over too quick, not worth the effort, and he was pretty sure the girl was in pain the whole time. That had made it a little bit harder to enjoy what he was doing. He wondered what Dean made of sex.

Dean humored the leather-wearing gentleman for the first few minutes of the game before stepping it up and finally smearing the table with their asses. They weren't even that good at pool, to begin with, but they sure did talk big. That made Dean nervous. Made him worry that perhaps they were actually hoping for him to win so they could take him out back and fuck him up. Hell, they probably had a deal with the bar-owner to look the other way. That kind of shit happened all the time in these self-contained southern towns. He should've been able to keep calm knowing that he had Sam to back him up, but that only worried him more because the last thing he wanted was for Sam to get mixed up with these guys. He didn't quite take them for the sodomizing type, but Sam was pretty. And from the back, it all looked the same. Especially when it was a boy with long hair.

"Whatcha keep lookin' at?" One of the gruff voices asked. It came from the gent in the Harley shirt and the leather jacket without sleeves. It couldn't quite be called a vest because Dean was certain that it had actually had sleeves attached at one point in time.

"Looks like that pretty boy over there." Said Duff. Dean had caught his name early in the game because he'd actually made a shot and earned himself pats on the back and congratulations from his mates. Or gang. Whatever. Duff was the only one who wasn't over-weight. In fact. He was quite short and skinny with longish blonde hair, oiled back over his ears like it was 1953. He had a handlebar mustache to compensate, though. He seemed to be the ring-leader. "Yep. Keeps looking over his shoulder, right at him. And I coulda swore I saw that there boy makin' eyes at 'im, too."

"Coulda swore the same." Agreed one of the others.

"If you wanna make trouble, I'm not interested." Dean said, bending over the table and making his shot. There was something so coital about pool. It was no wonder that Dean was great at it. "Besides...how would it look if the four of you fellas picked a fight with a young kid like me? I'm utterly defenseless, here." He smirked, making his shot and getting the pocket to his upper left. He contained his satisfaction, drawing his cue up to rest his hands and chin on it, smiling cheekily and good naturedly at the foursome.

"Boy, you got a smart mouth on you." Duff said, puffing out his small chest. "Mouth that don't know how to shut up."

"Oh, this mouth knows how to do plenty." Dean winked, inwardly kicking himself for baiting them. "Not that you're ever going to find out."

"You hear this faggot, Duffy?" Came Harley-shirt.

"I hear 'im. And if he knows what's good for 'im he better put that pool cue down and go find 'im a nice queer bar to strut his stuff in."

"Well so far, this was the only queer bar in town."

"Boy, I'm warnin' you..."

Sam weaved his way between Duff and his brother and smiled at the small blonde man before turning to Dean. "Honey? Were you picking fights with these handsome men? What'd I tell you last time you got your ass kicked by a gang of bikers?"

The men around the pool table –Dean included- all shared the same look of puzzled curiosity after Sam spoke. Dean, for other reasons, however.

"See, Duff? I knew he was a queer. And that pretty boy's his girlfriend."

"The two of you better get out of my bar real fast and don't look back. It's been a long time since I've whooped me some faggot ass, and my fingers is already itchin'..."

"You got it." Sam smiled even sweeter if that was possible as he hung on the arm of his older brother, tugging him towards the exit. "We're leaving now, Babe."

"...Right....babe..." Dean replied, through gritted teeth as he was all but dragged from the smoky bar and out to the parking lot.

"What the hell was that, Sam?"

"What do you mean?" Sam finally let go of his lover's grip on his brother. "I was saving your ass."

"You were fucking things up. I could've handled it, and I wasn't going to let it go full-blown to begin with. Now we're still broke, and we probably aren't exactly welcome back here."

Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in that way that annoyed their father to no end. "You're welcome."

"Yeah. Whatever. You know, you make a really convincing gay." Dean smirked, attempting to kill the hostility and lighten the mood.

"Hey, they thought you were gay and you weren't even pretending."

Sam did have a point there.

"You were listening?"

"I could hear over the Johnny Cash and sounds of wet barroom sex, surprisingly, yes."

"Sounds of-...?"

"Yeah. There was...this dude and this woman in a booth a few feet away from me."

"You're such a peeping tom." Dean rubbed his arm where Sam had dug his fingers in while pulling him from the pool table moments before as they walked across the road and down the sidewalk to their motel.

"Right, Dean. It was actually pretty disgusting."

"Uh-huh. I'll believe that a teenage boy was disgusted by live public sex the day Shakespeare's corpse delivers a pizza to my door free of charge."

"It was gross, Dean. Sex is just....sex, anyway. It's messy and pointless."

"You think that?" Dean was a little shocked by that statement. Firstly, because even though it had broke his heart the day Sammy told him he'd lost his virginity to the 16 year old daughter of a motel-owner, he'd at least hoped it was good for him. Their lives were wacked enough as is, and even if Dean did harbor a secret wicked lust for his younger brother, the jealousy wasn't enough to keep him from wanting Sam to be happy. It shocked him, secondly, because he wanted to think that if he and Sam ever did end up together –though that was extremely unlikely and wrong- Sam would want the same things Dean wanted.

"Yeah, Dean. I never really told you about it because you seemed so upset about it, but when I had sex, I didn't really enjoy it that much." He shrugged.

"Why not? Because I saw the girl, and she was cute, Sammy."

"I don't know, Dean. I just didn't get into it. It seemed degrading to her, and I just felt guilty. She bled a little." Sam cringed as he said the last part. As though it hurt him to admit that he'd done it to her.

"Sam. Most virgins bleed. It's just a fact of life."

"Do you make girls bleed, Dean?" Sam inquired with a little bitterness.

"I have." he replied after a moment of consideration and brief guilt. He suddenly felt accused. "But it's not wrong, Sam. It just...happens. I didn't do it on purpose and neither did you."

"I just....don't think I like girls all that much."

There was a long silence that followed Sam's statement, and it seemed agonizingly longer to Sam who wanted to turn and run, never having to face his brother again. It was long for Dean, because it was possibly the best news he'd ever heard in all his life.

"You...you think you might be gay, Sammy? Or...just not sexually awake. Asexual, or whatever...."

"I don't know. I didn't really mean it. Let's just not talk about it." Sam picked up his pace and made it to the motel room door before Dean, only to realize he'd have to wait for Dean to unlock it for him anyway.

But when Dean caught up, he made no move to get the key out or to unlock the door. Instead, he stood uncomfortably close to his younger brother, staring him dead in the eye. But not with malice or anger. With....desperation?

"Sam...believe me, I'm not going to be upset with you if you're gay. I just want you to tell me."

"I don't know what I am, Dean! And that's the truth. Why does it matter, anyway?"

Dean sighed and finally unlocked the door and let them into the room, closing and locking it again behind them. Sam turned on the light and went to sit on the bed he and Dean shared, head hung low, and hands in his lap playing with one another.

Dean sat down next to him, facing him, and took the idle hands in his own, attempting to comfort his brother.

"Sammy, look. I'm not....I'm not all that certain of things myself. I've been....I _am_...confused, too."

Sam lifted his head a little to meet the eyes of his brother. "You're just saying that."

"No, Sammy, I....I've slept with men before. Not exactly men of choice, but....it wasn't all bad. And I've been attracted to men."

"But you sleep with women all the time."

"I don't." Dean said.

Sam turned on the bed so he could talk to his brother without having to crane his neck. "But..."

"Sam...I really don't. I haven't slept with anyone in two months. I won't deny that I have a bit of a track record with the ladies, but lately, I've been a saint."

"And you've slept with men? Men who weren't your choice? What does that mean..."

"It means I've been lonely on occasion. Not every bar I've hustled is like the one we just came from."

A look of plain disgust spread over Sam's face. "You've....you were....you whored yourself out!"

"To very lonely men, lonely as me, who appreciated it very much. I offered companionship when there was nothing else to be had. It's more respectable than it sounds."

"So the night you came home...hurt?"

"I was hustling pool just like I told you and Dad."

"You were raped. I've always known, deep down."

Dean flinched at the R word. He didn't want to talk about it now or ever.

"Yeah, Sammy. But it's not important anymore, I'm over it."

"I'd never seen you cry from an injury before in my life, Dean. It's important."

"Sam..."

"I couldn't sleep for a week because I was so afraid for you!"

"Please..."

"Hell, you hardly spoke to me for a week!"

On impulse, Dean flew forward, pulling Sam close to him by his hands, and kissed him hard on the mouth. More to shut him up than to indulge his long-lived craving.

When the too-short too-rough kiss ended, Sam was frozen with his eyes as wide as they'd ever been. He had no words, Dean'd eaten them all with his sweet, hungry lips.

"I'm...sorry..." Dean finally choked out, but before he had the time to elaborate or even think of a good excuse, Sam was back on him. This time, Sam's lips were the hungry ones, and though they did not beg entry, they pushed for Dean even more than Dean's had pushed for him. Somehow, Dean found the willpower to push his younger brother away.

"What're you doing?" He panted.

"What do you mean? You did it first."

"Doesn't mean it was right."

"I did it because I wanted it."

"So did I..." Dean scanned Sam's face for anything but the horrible need and lust he saw there. He thought he'd be ecstatic the day he found the nerve to kiss Sam. He'd dreamed of seeing this look in his baby brother's eyes. But at the moment, he just felt dirty. "Sam...I've wanted you for...well...months, now. But I shouldn't. And you can't just go along with it because I'm your older brother and you're scared to disappoint me."

"Oh, god, it's not that, Dean." Sam said, holding himself back, now. "And you're right, I've never....thought about you like that before. But now it just seems so obvious."

"This isn't the type of decision you make 2 minutes after your older brother molests you. You're not in your right mind."

"But I think I am, Dean." Sam pleaded. "If it didn't feel wrong or disgusting to me then, then why will it ever feel that way in the future?"

"I've had longer to think about this than you. You can't just...be kissed into compliance."

"Apparently I just was."

Dean shook his head, trying to come up with all the possible reasons for Sam's sudden requital of lust. He had to chalk it up to hormones, he supposed.

"You're just young and horny."

"So're you." Sam defended.

Touché.

"Think about the consequences. Think if Dad found out."

"Fuck Dad."

Dean was blown back a bit by that one, but found his footing and was able to reply.

"Well this just may be worse than that, Sammy."

"I never said I'd let you...." He couldn't quite get the words out, and though Dean desperately wanted the sentence to end, he couldn't either.

"I know. Assumptions. Sorry. But...what if we don't work in the future. Can you imagine how awkward things would be?"

"Let's be candid here, Dean. This isn't the type of thing where you can stick your toe in the water and then decide you don't wanna get wet after all. When you kissed me, you weren't testing the water, you were taking the plunge."

"I disagree."

"We're not talking about sex, Dean."

"I disagree, again. This all comes back to sex."

"But now that it's out in the open, things would be awkward if we didn't do anything about it."

"You make so much sense." Dean said, sighing. "But I'm afraid the only reason I agree with you is because I want you so bad."

"So have me. For once in your life, get what you want." Sam licked his lower lip, sampling the lingering taste of his brother. "I can't guarantee that I'll never regret this...but...I can promise that I'll never love you less than I do right now."

"Me....me too." Dean agreed, leaning forward once more, slower this time, sweeter, to capture the lips of his brother. Sam moved his whole body forward this time and when Dean's tongue entered his mouth, he made no protest. He wanted Dean to fill him in more ways than one. He'd felt this emptiness when he was with the girl, and now he understood why. He was the one who needed to be penetrated. He didn't think of it in terms of gender, but essentially, he needed to be the girl. He craved it. Had been for a long time, now.

"Mm. Dean." He pulled away again, much to the frustration of his brother. "It would be wrong for us to......tonight?"

"Yeah..." Dean seemed slightly down-hearted by this realization, himself. He hadn't been thinking about the end result of this little make out session, but the thought that it probably wouldn't get to any higher levels was a bit discouraging.

"Well...maybe we could anyway? While we have the chance, you know. While Dad isn't here."

"You're right. Opportunities...just..." But he never was allowed to finish that sentence.

TBC...

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Afterward: Okay...see what I mean? It's becoming porn and fast. But I'm having fun with it. *Shrug.* I'm enjoying writing Sam so confused and desperate. He's like a tragic pie-crust. And Dean's the filling.


	4. The Piano Has Been Drinking

AN: The title is the title of a Tom Waits song. The story is starting to get a plot, now. I hope that doesn't keep me from actually working on it, lol, because I'm starting to really like where this is going. I don't own anybody but Duff. Who I'm starting to be proud of owning, and hopefully I won't do anything to sour that.

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When the door opened, the boys froze. They weren't so far gone, lost in one another, that they'd abandoned their sharp reflexes. Unfortunately, Dean had frozen with his arms around his brother's torso, hands up the back of his shirt. And Sam had frozen lip-locked with his brother, hands groping his chest.

"What the Hell's going on here?" John asked. He didn't sound mad, yet. Just extremely disgusted and surprised, which could've been worse.

Dean pushed Sam back and stood up to face his father. "Sammy....asked me to teach him to kiss..." He stuttered out.

"Right." John said, hesitantly making his way over to his bed and setting down both of his duffel bags; the one he carried with him on hunts, and the one he'd retrieved from the car filled with extra ammo. It became plain that he was only here to stock up, again. "I...don't think I can handle this right now."

"What...so you're going to take off?" Dean challenged, feeling as though he'd suddenly grown a set of brass ones. Sam would've liked nothing more than to reach out and pull Dean back down onto the bed to save him from whatever he was getting himself into, but how would that have looked? "And then, when you do come back...._if_ you come back...you'll probably have strategically forgotten all about this, huh?"

"Are you smart-talking me, boy? You think that's a good idea after what I just saw you doing to your little brother?"

"Didn't you hear him?" Sam asked. "I asked him to. It wasn't his fault, it was mine."

"I don't wanna hear another word out of you, Sam. Both of you better get to somewhere where I can't see you in the next five minutes, or I don't know what."

Dean gave his father a short-lived, but well enforced glare before grabbing his little brother by the wrist and pulling him around John and out the door.

"Where're we going, Dean?"

"Don't know. Just somewhere." He could hardly talk; his teeth were grinding so hard. "Do you see, Sam? If we keep this up, we're going to be sneaking around for the rest of our lives."

"No we won't. Once I'm 18 I'm out of here."

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm not his once I'm 18. I can go wherever I want. Hopefully, I'll have finished high school, maybe I'll get a scholarship or something. I'm going to get out."

Dean shook his head and began walking even faster, letting his brother's wrist go and crossing his arms over his chest as he went.

"We're not like other families, Sam. Normal isn't exactly an option."

"I'm not saying 'normal.' After today...after the past 14 years...I can never be 'normal.' I just meant....as close to it as I can possibly get."

"So you just wanna leave? You just think you're going to abandon Dad and me?"

Sam had no problem keeping pace with his brother. His legs were longer, so he didn't even have to speed up much.

"Dean, you're the one who's been complaining about him the past couple of days. You're the one he treats like his slave. And you saw how he was just acting. You're 18; he shouldn't be able to threaten you anymore."

"He's still Dad, Sam."

"Yeah. I get that. But we don't exactly owe him anything. I mean, c'mon, Dean. You had no child-hood, because of him. You were too busy being my big brother...my mother....my _father_ when Dad wasn't around. You grew up the day mom died because you were forced to. Me? I gave up my share, too. We've paid whatever debts we may have had to him."

"I still...he's still family."

"Dean...you're just going to sacrifice the rest of your life to him? He can't own us forever. I love him, too. But this thing that killed Mom? Well....it's like I'm numb to it, now. I've spent so long hating it, I don't have any hate left for it. But I'm afraid that if I stick around him for too much longer, I may start hating again. And I'll be hating the wrong thing."

"Sam, you don't mean that."

"You wanna bet?" the younger Winchester boy kicked a can the toe of his boot had found in his way. It flew, bounced a time or two, then rolled to a stop at the toe of another shoe.

Both boys' eyes traveled up the boot, the leg, the torso, and all of this happened relatively quick since the man these body parts belonged to was maybe 5'5" at most.

"You." Dean grumbled.

"Me." Duff smirked.

"Where're your buddies?"

"How the hell should I know? Not with me, obviously." Duff seemed to be drunk. Very drunk. As he walked closer to them, his ankles crossed. He fell against a brick wall at one point before the brothers rushed forward to help him. Not because they wanted to, of course, but because they felt obligated.

Sam grabbed him around the waist, attempting to lift him back to his feet. Dean, who was more height-appropriate, pulled Duff's arm around his neck.

"Where're you headed?" They both asked simultaneously.

"The fuck you care?"

"Well..." Sam offered. "We can't help you get there if you don't tell us where it is."

Duff began to twist in their arms, not quite fighting, but wiggling free.

"Oh, what, you're too tough-guy for our help?" Dean asked.

"Did you hear me ask for it? Like I'm gonna tell you where I live."

"Well, it'd be in your best interest if you want to get there." Sam regained his grip around the small man's waist and hoisted him back up. "I'd be surprised if you knew your left from your right at this point."

"Hah. I'm not even sure he could tell us where he lives, Sammy."

The two looked down at the man, waiting for some sort of come-back. They received none. Sam rolled Duff's head back with a sharp tug of his waist to reveal that he was unconscious.

"Great, Dean. What're we supposed to do with him, now?"

"I don't know. I guess we should take him back to the motel."

"Oh yeah? And what'll Dad say about that?"

"Well, nothing if he doesn't catch us."

"What're you suggesting?"

Dean took the rest of Duff's weight from his brother and lifted him over his shoulder, secured under his arm. "I'm suggesting we wait outside the room until Dad leaves if he hasn't already. Then we let him sleep it off."

"I'm not so sure sharing a room with this guy is a good idea, Dean. I mean...not that he looks all that dangerous, but he does think we're gay. And he is a bit of a redneck biker. He also threatened to kick your ass back at the bar."

Dean nodded. "I can see the cause for concern, Sammy. But seriously....look at him."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. He's much less threatening without his buddies in tow."

"Alright." Dean began in the direction of their motel. "But I'm only carrying him the first half."

Sam lugged Duff the last few feet before tossing him behind the dumpster onto a pile of broken down cardboard boxes. He figured that would be enough to soften the fall. Either way, the man didn't stir.

"Alright." Dean sighed, crouching down beside the pile of Duff and peaking around the dumpster which was conveniently placed just yards away from their motel room window. "So now we wait."

"Why couldn't he have already left?" Sam growled.

"Because apparently he lives to make you miserable?" Dean snapped back. But Sam didn't really want to start that again, so he just crouched beside him, nearly leaning on him.

Through the window, they could see a dim silhouette of their father against the blinds. He seemed to be cleaning the barrel of one of his guns, but his pack was already slung over his shoulder, so it wouldn't be long before he left.

"Do you think he'll be back before long?" Sam asked.

"Probably not. I mean...I figure we probably did shake him up a bit."

"Do you think he bought the kissing thing?"

"Nah. I don't know. Probably not. I mean...look at him. Nothing gets past him."

"True."

There was an awkward minute of silence before Sam took hold of a small twig that had been laying next to his boot-clad foot. He began drawing invisible lines against the pavement, making a soothing and redundant scratching noise to fill up the air while he tried to sort his thoughts. Tried to get past the possibility of him and Dean forming an incestuous relationship and, subsequently, being forced to confess to their father about it. It was a lot for a fourteen year old to handle.

Lost in his thoughts and the gentle scraping of the twig, Sam didn't notice the hotel room door open until Dean put his own boot heel down on the end of the twig, snapping it in half. Sam shocked out of his trance and held his breath, clinging to his brother for stability on the now-wobbly balls of his feet. John took a moment to survey the night climate before closing the motel room door behind him and lugging his gear to the Impala. It hurt Dean increasingly more every time he watched John take off in it. On his 17th birthday, he'd been promised the car as a gift. "Bobby's fixing me up a truck, and once he's done with that, I'll let you have the Impala." That had been a long time ago, and Dean couldn't have waited anymore patient on the exterior. As their father finally sped off, Dean considered what it would be like to have the Impala as a home on wheels for just him and his Sammy. Nobody else. No evil to hunt; Just the road ahead of them to swallow mile after mile. Occasional motel room stays where they may finally find the solitude to explore this new...._thing_ they had developed.

"Okay. I'll get his arms. You get his feet." Sammy had left his side and already had a hold of Duff's scrawny arms by the elbows. Dean joined him at the other end of the sprite-like man and they lifted together, easily covering the distance of blacktop to the motel room door. Thankfully, Dean thought, this motel only had one floor. He didn't think he would've had the restraint not to allow the guy's head to bump up a few steps on a flight of stairs.

He set the feet down when they got to the door, and Sammy took his cue to lift Duff on his own once more as Dean fished his key out of his pocket and let them in, flipping on the switch that light both of the bed-side lamps. "Put him on Dad's bed."

Sam laid him out, taking care of making sure that the position he left him in looked comfortable.

"You're such a mother." Dean smirked.

"Shut up. He may be a dick, but we're the ones who're going to have to put up with him in the morning when he's got a hangover."

The conversation was abruptly halted with the sounds of stirring against the bed sheets.

"He's waking up? There's no damn way." Dean muttered. "He was sloshed. And...he's tiny."

"Maybe he's got a strong drinking stomach?" Sam shrugged, watching Duff rub at his eyes with his arm and sitting up, squinting against the lamp-light and looking around.

"'The fuck...?" He grumbled, raising his eyebrows at the boys.

"We ran into you on the street....you passed out, and we couldn't just leave you there." Dean volunteered.

"I remember that, asshole. I didn't black out. Why the Hell couldn't you leave me there? Unless you two fruitcakes had a mind to take me to your room and have some fun. In that case, I have two fairy asses to whoop."

"Believe me, dude. If we were going to find somebody to date-rape, it wouldn't be the midget with the handle-bar mustache."

Duff didn't even respond. It seemed, at this point, that he didn't even care. Maybe it was due to the fact that he posse wasn't around to show off for anymore.

"So if you two's gay, why you got two beds?"

"We're not." Said Sam. "We're brothers. We're on a trip with our father. That's his bed. He's out for the night."

Duff looked around him at the bed, then looked to his side, noting the belt that was still draped over the headboard. He lifted his hand and fingered something that clanked against the wood and itself. Something metal, that chimed a little. John's dog-tags. He gripped them and lifted them, holding the charms in front of his eyes and close range so that his drunk eyes could make them out.

"John....Winchester? _Winchester?_"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah? That's our name..."

"_John?"_

"That'd be our father..." Sam chimed in.

"Holy shit." Duff choked out, obviously sobering up a bit.

The brothers shot each other a glance, and each stepped forward. "What is it?" They asked, simultaneously.

"1969....it was 1969...God. John _Winchester._"

TBC....

* * *

Afterword: So...what do you think? Are you as excited as I am? Or disappointed it may be a while before we get to some porn? I must know! I can't believe something I'm writing is developing a PLOT! Lol. Unfortunately I update so slow, but that may be a good thing. Better to work on it when I'm motivated than to force myself into writing something plotless and bland that's just a bunch of strung-together one-liners. *Ahem* ALL MY OTHER STUFF. Lol. JK. They call it crack for a reason.


	5. Soldier's Things

AN: I know, it's been a while. Sorry. Title comes from a Tom Waits song.

* * *

"You know him!" Dean exclaimed rather than asked. Sam was silent with his mouth slightly unhinged.

"Oh, god. So, then....you're John Winchester's boys?"

They nodded. Neither of them took their eyes off of Duff and he didn't take his off of them. They just stared at each other in awe for what could've been minutes with the way the room was so still.

"I don't believe this. You boys....your daddy...we..." Duff seemed to be having trouble putting his words together. This could've been blamed on the drunkenness, but Dean and Sam were convinced that the man was pretty well sobered by now. "I was in the Marines with your father. It was Nam. Your daddy and I were in the 2nd Battalion, Echo Company. In November of 1969, we were deployed. I'd never talked to him much before that. Then Jamie....in December, when Jamie died, John just quit talkin' to everybody. Jamie was sorta all he ever talked to in the first place, but once he bit it, John didn't really have a mind to talk at all. Until one day when I was....well....let's just say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And your daddy...he made it there just in time to save my butt."

Sam shook his head.

"Man, I just don't believe it. What's the chance of us meeting you here?" Dean said, still taking the man on the bed in with wide disbelieving eyes. "I mean, in our line of work we find that coincidences rarely dictate reality..."

"I'm just as shocked as you are." Duff laughed a little. "What'd you kids say your names were, again?"

"Uh, I'm Sam." The younger boy smiled. "And this is Dean."

"Sam and Dean Winchester, huh? And...your mother?"

Both of the boys were silent for a moment. It was long enough for Duff to gauge that he'd come upon a tender topic.

"She died when I was a baby." Sam finally spoke.

"Well I'm mighty sorry to hear that. All John ever talked about out there was findin' him a wife and having him some boys. He must've been happier'n a pig in shit the day you two's born."

"Eh." Sam halfway smiled. "I don't really know that he's the type who could ever really be satisfied."

Dean shot his younger brother a small glare. "I dunno, Sammy. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He turned his gaze back to Duff. "As they say."

"When's your daddy coming back?" The blonde man asked.

"Who knows." Dean shrugged, finally taking a seat on his and Sammy's bed, feeling as though everything was easier to accept just being off his feet. "He takes off from time to time and he stays gone for days....maybe weeks. He just dropped in to stock up tonight and sped off right before we dragged you in here."

"Stock up?" Duff asked.

"Uh..." Sam stumbled over ten different half-thought-out explanations that were running through his mind, but Dean was quicker. He'd always been the better liar.

"Yeah. He's on this hunt with a few buddies of his. He came back for water and food."

"And you guys aren't with him? You're old enough to hunt. Hell, my daddy took me hunting when I was six years old. John's leaving you two in motels while he goes after the big game? I'm goin' to have to have a talk with him..."

Looking at the bedside table next to John's bed, Dean realized that he'd left his journal behind. That was odd for John. He usually brought it with him everywhere he went. Especially on hunts. Coincidentally, it was just then when the two boys recognized the sound of the impala on the asphalt outside of the motel room.

"Dad's back..." Dean muttered. "Forgot something."

"Really?" Duff stood up out of excitement. "John Winchester..." he recited again in awe. Dean and Sam were well aware of the impressions their father tended to leave on people, but this was different. This was some new degree of gratitude that Dean figured could only exist between war buddies.

When the door opened and John came in, grumbling, he hardly looked up until it occurred to him that there was a very small blonde man blocking the way to the nightstand. He cocked his head and assessed the impish biker, then broke into the most surprised grin the boy's had ever seen.

"Duff Kurtz?!??!"

"John! How are ya?!?!?"

The Winchester sons watched with great humor as their very large bear-like father made a disappearing act of the smaller one in a great big man-hug. It was a moment before he set him down again.

"How the hell did you end up here?" John asked.

"Your boys brought me in after they found me drunk in the street. I saw your dog-tags and...well..."

"Jesus Christ, what're the odds?"

Suddenly Dean felt the knuckles of Sammy's hand stroke the palm of his own, reminding him of the note their father had left on. He wondered if Sammy wanted to remind him. It was almost as if he was just waiting to bring it back up again in front of John. Like he was aching for a fight. Dean pulled his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"These're some mighty handsome boys you've raised, here, John."

"I'm pretty proud of them." John beamed. "What about you? You got any kids?"

"Nah." Duff shrugged. "Just a couple of ex-wives."

"You and Susan...?"

"Ah, John, you know how it is. We was away a pretty good long time, there. She had to find some way to occupy herself."

"Man, I'm sorry."

"For what? It was a long time ago, and if I hadn't have found out, I'd be married to the bitch right now."

The two took another moment just to look each other up and down with fond remembrance.

"Get a room." Dean mumbled.

Duff broke into a smile. "You're one to talk, Dean. You and your brother certainly had me fooled back there at the bar."

John's smile crumbled. "You were at the bar?" He asked of Dean. "You took Sammy to a bar without me there?"

"Well..." Dean's tone was softer this time around. He didn't want to fight in front of Duff. "There was no money and no food, so I thought I'd just go hustle up some cash. Sam didn't want to be left alone."

"You're son's pretty good a pool, John." Duff came to Dean's defense. "But I don't know about that homo trick. That was pretty sneaky."

"What...?" John asked of anyone in the room. "_Homo_ trick?"

"Yeah, Dad. Earlier...me and Dean were just practicing. We figured we'd come across a good escape plan and we just wanted to get it down perfectly."

Now Duff was the one who looked confused.

"Sam, that's bullshit. Because earlier, the story was that Dean was teaching you to kiss."

"He was. So that we would be convincing when the situation called for it."

"Dad...Whatever you're thinking, it couldn't be further from the truth. This isn't some VC Andrews novel, this I reality."

"Yeah well, our reality comes a lot closer to fiction than most fiction does." John sighed. He didn't buy his sons' story for one second, and the boys knew it. But there didn't seem to be much fight in him, now. Probably due to Duff's presence. He sighed. "Look, boys..." He took out his wallet and handed a stack of bills to Dean. "I want you to go get a separate room so Duff'll have a place to sleep tonight."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, John."

"I insist."

Dean just shrugged and stuffed the cash into his pocket, grabbed their bag and grabbed Sammy by the arm and lead him out of the room.

"Dad certainly was eager to get us out of there, don't you think?" He asked.

"What're you suggesting?" Sam frowned.

"I don't know. I mean....look at us. Danger brings people together and makes them close. Even the unlikely pairs may learn to find some sort of comfort in one another when there's nobody else around."

Sam trudged forward to the front desk, trying not to take what Dean said too literally, although he knew that was just how he meant it. And it seemed like he was probably right.

* * *

Afterward: I'm working on the next chapter right now, and it's looking like there might be some smex in it. So...that's something to look forward to. Also, I think you might like the story of how John saved Duff, and I'm going to try to work that in later. Probably not in the next chapter, though. (Forgive me for the plothole, also. I know...like John would ever abandon a hunt just because an old friend showed up. But I'll try to sort that out later, too.)


	6. As The World Turns

AN: I have managed to evade turkey and wine induced unconsciousness to bring you chapter six. Dude...I'm like Macgyver.

* * *

At the front desk, Dean handed Sam the cash, taking a couple of ones off the top, and told him to pay for the room using his fake ID as he paid a visit to the vending machine. After all, they'd never seen the manager on duty tonight, so she must've never seen them before, either.

Dean got three bags of gardettos and some milk duds, stuffing them in the pockets of his jacket and coming back to Sammy who was just receiving the key. He handed him the duffel to carry so the weight of it against his side wouldn't crush the junk food.

"Come on." He grinned. "I got us dinner."

"Oh, great. Vending machine cuisine, my favorite." Sam smirked back, leading Dean to the new room and unlocking the door to a one bed affair.

"Sam...you only got one bed."

"We only ever use one, and it was cheaper." Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, but...Dad."

"Dean, we only use one bed between the two of us no matter where we go because he's too cheap to get three. So if he's going to throw a fit about it, he's got an awfully weak case." The younger Winchester was already tossing the duffel onto one of the small stuffed chairs and taking a seat on the bed. "Why don't you close the door, Dean....and come here."

Dean closed the door behind him, but he didn't take more than two steps closer to his younger brother. And where did Sam learn to drench his voice in such sex, anyway?

"Sammy...I don't know. It's been a crazy night."

"I know, Dean, but we started something and if we just leave it hanging, who knows what might happen to it. I know I don't want to just forget about it. What about you?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder, looking at the toes of his boots. "Like I said, Sammy. A real crazy night."

"So let's make it crazier."

"You're fourteen."

"But I'm not a virgin, Dean. I know about sex."

"Not everything, Sam. It's different between guys."

Sam groaned and flung himself onto his back. "You treat me like I'm a baby. I know the difference, okay. I know what it is. I'm asking you for it. Now's not really an appropriate time for you to guilt-trip yourself."

Dean sighed and unloaded the bags of junk-food from his pockets and onto the nightstand, taking a few steps closer to his baby brother, who couldn't help but be noticed with the way he was sprawled on the bed, frustrated and needy. Dean tried hard not to pay it any mind. "Maybe I'm just not in the mood, Sammy."

"And I can't put you in it? You said you've wanted me for months, Dean. I knew what you meant when you said that. Imagine all the things you've thought of doing with me. I'm willing to let you."

Sam certainly did drive a hard bargain. He had a way of putting things that just...made sense. Later, Dean would reflect on this moment as his baby walked out the door to become a big shot lawyer. He'd say to himself, "No wonder."

"Alright, Sammy. If you think you know what you're asking for." He sighed once more, trying to smile as menacingly as possible, but soon backing down once he realized Sammy wouldn't. The kid really wanted this and as Dean shed his jacket and crawled over him on the bed, he leaned up on his elbows to meet him for a contradictory kiss. Sam's body was radiating heat and his eyes had glossed over dark, but his kiss was sweet and gentle. A fourteen-year-old's kiss. One to be shared between playground lovers. Dean felt the wrongness of it pit up in his stomach, but he knew better than to stop now, lest he feel the wrath of a horny and deprived adolescent.

They parted all too quickly and their eyes met for a long, loving, and slightly frightened glance.

"You're sure about this?" Dean asked.

"No." Sam finally broke the spell, looking down at the sheets beneath him. "But I'm past the point of caring. I'm not saying..." His nose wrinkled in that certain way that meant he was having a hard time forming a specific thought into words.

Dean just coaxed him along by raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not saying that we have to go all the way, Dean." Sam finally raised his eyes to connect with Dean's again. "I'm still kind of afraid of that..."

"Well thank god, Sammy."

"Why do you say that?"

"You were starting to scare me. A boy your age should have _some_ inhibitions."

Sam cocked his head. "Oh yeah? And how old were you when you started tricking?"

Dean sat back on his heels, suddenly disinterested. Sam was instantly sorry.

"Wait, Dean, I didn't mean it."

"No, it's okay, Sammy. It should freak you out. I mean...it kinda still freaks _me_ out sometimes."

"Dean..." Sam pawed up at him, wanting to pull him back down and regain that special feeling of being pinned beneath him. "Dean...I'm okay with it. It's the past. It doesn't matter. But this does." He grabbed his brother's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle. "And I want to prove something to you tonight. So you'll always believe it."

"Sam, you don't have to prove anything." Each little flutter of Sam's lips over each knuckle was like a tightening of the vice on Dean's heart.

"Well let me, anyways."

Dean allowed himself to be pulled back down for another kiss. This one was different from the last.

* * *

"So...what was that?" Duff asked, sitting down on the bed Sam and Dean ordinarily shared.

"I thought you'd have sense enough not to ask." John grunted.

"Well, I may be pretty lucid, but I do have about four beers and a few shots of Daniels in me. So...spill"

"Ah, Duff. Let me tell you...this raising kids thing. It's....it's tough."

Duff smirked. "I wouldn't know. Either way...you gonna tell me or not?"

"I guess I ought to since you were forced to witness some of it." John sighed.

"Oh, don't act like you owe me anything. You still got dibs on my life, incase you don't remember."

"Yeah yeah. Anyway. What happened was...."

* * *

Sam had quickly turned the tables since Dean was distracted with the buttons on his shirt. He was now perched on top of his older brother's well-sculpted chest, rocking and rubbing against him as he fought with his t-shirt.

"Fuck it!" He grumbled, giving up and moving to Dean's jeans.

"Sam, chill out. I'll get it." Dean laughed a little, tugging it over his own head and letting it fall to the wayside. Sam hardly heard him. He was much too busy releasing the brass button from it's capture and dragging the zipper down it's track. The very faint vibration of the ordinary act seemed suddenly amplified to Dean. Each time the wedge went through a set of teeth, Dean felt it. He felt his own pulse like he could feel Sammy's heat against his chest. He wanted the two sensations to meld together. He wanted Sammy's heat and he wanted Sammy to feel his pulse. He wondered if he could, already. If it excited him.

Sammy could.

It did.

* * *

"So...they were just kissing?"

"_Just?_"

"Well, John, it just doesn't really seem like such a big deal. I mean, they told you why, didn't they?"

"Yeah, but I don't buy it."

Duff shrugged. "Neither do I, really, but that's just 'cause I thought they were gay from the get-go."

"That's not what bothers me." John sighed. "Hell, Dean's pretty AC/DC, himself. He may not think I know, but I do. I've seen him out with men. Yeah, it shocked me at first, but I'm used to it now. I sort of understand it. I mean...a kid as good looking as him with all those options...well...it's like Baskin Robin's. Who doesn't want to try more than one of their 31 flavors?"

"Christ, John, you're like the redneck Keats."

"Shut up. Point is...I don't mind if Dean likes men. I don't mind if Sammy likes men. I don't mind if they like each other. I mind a LOT if Dean is doing something to harm his little brother. I know he never would if it meant his life, but he may not know he's doing it. I don't think a fourteen year old is fully capable of making the right decisions all the time."

"So you think they're..." Duff couldn't even finish the sentence. There really wasn't any way to.

"I don't know. I mean...I hope not. Christ, Sammy's only fourteen!" He rubbed at the scruff on his chin. "I'd just like to have a little longer with him. That's all. Dean grew up so quick, and Sam's still my baby boy. I just....I just want him to stay that way a little longer."

"Well, John. He's Dean's baby boy just as much as he is yours. A big brother can carry just as much responsibility if not more."

John wondered if Duff's insight was just coincidence. It was like they'd never been apart.

* * *

It was like they'd never been apart. Sam had broken the kiss only to remove his brother's boxers from around his ankles so that he could properly spread his legs and crawl between them. Now they were fitted together once more. Each breathing heavy through his nose, practically drowning in one another's tastes.

"Sam..." Dean finally breathed, pulling back. "Let me..." He reached for Sam's belt which had remained untouched until this moment.

"Wait for it." Sam licked at his lips, smiling a little before attacking his throat and leaving a trail of kisses down his chest. Panic rose in Dean's stomach as his baby brother came nearer and nearer. He was anticipating it, yes, but he was also quite scared. This meant a lot of different things he couldn't even name right now. Especially not when fourteen-year-old Sammy was planting a sweet kiss right on the tip of his cock. Like kissing the forehead of a baby.

"Wait..." Dean finally spoke, leaning up on his elbows and wanting to stop what suddenly felt incredibly wrong to him.

"No." Sam replied, simply, gripping the base of his older brother's cock and licking a slow trail through the slit, collecting the salty taste that was pure Dean.

Fair enough, Dean thought as he allowed himself to collapse back onto his back once more. He didn't watch, he felt, as Sam's small and hot mouth took in as much of him as he could handle (which was a long shot from all of him) and worked his tongue rather roughly over him. No, Sam didn't know what he was doing. Yes, it was his first time giving a blowjob. But it didn't mean he was all bad. Half of what Dean was loving so much was that Sam was worried less about technique than about sucking the ever-loving essence of his brother like it was ambrosia. He stroked and petted and sucked so hard, Dean worried he'd be raw by the time it was all through. Of course, that wasn't likely, because at this rate it wouldn't be long until he was done. And when he was just about to be, he noted how Sam pulled back a ways, but not off. Likely to get a taste and not have the prize just shoot down his throat.

Because the whole affair was rather short-lived thanks to Sam's incredibly persuasive mouth, Dean only had 5 or so spurts to give. But Sam savored every last one of them, rolling his tongue around before swallowing and then crawling up to lay by his brother.

"Hm?" He muttered.

"Incredible, Sammy." Dean rolled onto his side, kissing his brother and tasting himself. "But what made you...."

"I told you. I wanted to prove it to you."

"Will you let me?" Dean asked. "I mean...when I get my breath back."

Sam smirked. "I thought I was gonna have to ask."

* * *

Afterward: Just gonna say...I know I always make lots of excuses and stuff, but I KNOW that sex scene was horrible, and I'm apologizing for it. It was their first time (well...still is. I don't think they're quite done.) It should've been sweeter, but instead it's written like something you'd see on the discovery channel. "And then the Winchester specimen puts the penis of the other Winchester specimen into it's mouth. This mating ritual is blah blah blah..." Anywho....I do like John and Duff's convo. I'm trying to make John a little less mean, because I've been kinda harsh on him and I feel bad. (Not really. I just think fluffy John is cute.) Anywho. I promise to never write chapters on holidays again. They can never turn out good, cause I'm usually half-dead from exhaustion and slightly tipsy.


End file.
